


Entertain Me

by trashandstuff80



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashandstuff80/pseuds/trashandstuff80
Summary: Tord gets his revenge on Tom. Plain and simple.





	Entertain Me

**Author's Note:**

> Why are you reading this.
> 
> Please, do not continue forward into this story without knowing what you're getting into. I'm ashamed to have wrote this, but my friend has assured me that it's good so ???
> 
> I'm sorry it's so long, too.

The two bastards pushed and shoved, whispering harshly that if he didn’t do what they wanted, neither he nor his friends would be breathing tomorrow. They weren’t as threatening as they probably wanted to be, since they obviously didn’t know how to kidnap someone or how use chloroform.  
  


Tom didn’t want to dwell on that, though. He was more concerned about  _ why  _ he was kidnapped. An honest question that anyone in his situation would ask, really. He didn’t know much, just that he’d been on a plane for what seemed like forever and he didn’t recognize the scenery when he was being driven to the building he was currently in.  
  


And then, one of the two idiots that had kidnapped him opened a door. He was pushed into the room, and a sinking feeling appeared in his chest when he saw who else occupied it.  
  


_ Tord.  
  
_

As in, the asshole who he should’ve killed. The asshole with the scars on his face because of his own stupidity. The asshole who hurt Edd and Matt and tried to kill him. The asshole who blew up everything they ever had in a sick metaphor for their friendship being over.  
  


Not that they were ever friends, but, you know.  
  


“At ease, soldiers.” Tord stood from his seat behind what looked like a desk. “I’ll have to give you some credit, you actually brought me  _ Tom  _ and not someone else. Amazing. You deserve a bonus...” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about what  _ that  _ entails later- no, it doesn’t mean you get to fly a plane again, Patryk.”   
  
Tom heard a sound of disappointment behind him, and he wondered what the fuck they were talking about.  
  


The man in red walked closer to them, eyes narrowing and with a smirk. “For now, leave me to my reward.”  
  
“Sir!” The two behind Tom echoed, heels clicking as they did... something. The door opened and closed, and it left the two enemies alone. Tom debated attacking the man, but wondered if it would even be worth it. After all, his hands were tied behind his back, so if he got into a fight, it would just be his legs. He wasn’t a good ‘leg’ fighter.  
  


Tord walked around him and he heard the door  _ click,  _ a signal that it was locked. The commie made his way to stand in front of him, far too close for Tom’s liking. “I feel like a child on Christmas.” He laughed, still smirking. “The ability to pay you back for what you did to me is the best gift I’ve ever recieved, after all.”  
  


Tom would’ve rolled his eyes, but he had no eyes to roll. “You deserved what happened to you, asshole.” He spat instead, moving away from the man. Tord stepped forward, making him move away again. This process repeated until Tom hit the door and the commie pinned him to it,  _ still  _ smirking. “What the fuck, commie?”   
  
“Think about it, Tom. What would be the best way for me to pay you back?” The man in red laughed, though he did step away and wander back over to the desk, where he simply stood instead of sitting down. “I have a feeling that this is going to be fun, so why waste all of my ideas right now?” He smirked. “Please, come in, make yourself at home.” He gestured to the chair in front of the desk.  
  


Tom eyed both the chair and Tord himself with distrust. His steps were cautious, but he hoped that Tord wasn’t going to do anything terrible. His hope was small, since he was a natural pessimist, so it wasn’t that big of a let down when the commie did actually do something horrible. He sat down nonetheless.  
  


Tord walked around the desk, standing before Tom. He looked like he wanted to say something before he let it go with a joyful sigh. He moved closer, and Tom inched back in the seat, wanting no contact with the man. Tord noticed this, and his smirk lessened. “Alright, Tom. We’re going to begin.”  
  


“Begin what, you asshole?” Tom snapped, arms straining against the ties holding them together. Oh how he  _ wished  _ he could break free and just deck this fucker in the face...  
  


He didn’t expect Tord to grab his shirt collar and throw him face first into the desk. It hurt, but thankfully nothing broke or anything. Except the desk lamp, which fell over and broke in half due to the collision. Tord clicked his tongue. “You’re paying for that.”  
  


Tom wondered briefly why he should be responsible for something that broke because he was thrown into a desk, but he let that go in favor of standing up.  
  


Tord stood behind him and shoved his face back down into the desk, forcing him to bend over it. His hand tangled into Tom’s hair, and as the eyeless man fought to stand, he pressed down more. Even when Tom kicked backwards, all he met was air. Both times, both sides. The man in blue growled, annoyed, while at the same time kind of freaking out because what the fuck was with this position?  
  


“Ok,  _ Thomas.  _ Lesson one.” Tord pulled his head up just to slam it down again, and Tom saw stars. “You belong to  _ me.  _ Not anyone else, not even  _ yourself.  _ I am your owner, and you will refer to me as such.” His tone held no room for arguments.  
  


Not that that would stop Tom, who growled louder and fought harder to stand. “Fuck you!” He spat. “Like I’m going to do that! You’re insane!”  
  


Tord sighed, and he moved uncomfortably close to Tom and bent down on top of him, hand still tangled in the eyeless man’s hair. “Thomas. I’m afraid you don’t understand.” He whispered into his captive’s ear, standing up straight again. “You belong to me. Not yourself.  _ Me.  _ What I say, goes. And I say that you must call me your owner.”  
  


“Fuck you, commie.” Tom snarled.  
  


Tord clicked his tongue. “That’s no way to treat your owner, Thomas.” He pulled his captive’s head up again, slamming it down once more. “Call.” Slam. “Me.” Slam. “Your.” Slam. “Owner.”  
  


Tom blinked rapidly, ears ringing and head pounding. His vision had gone black for a moment, and he felt a little dizzy. At this rate, he’d get a concussion or something. Still, he’d rather that than call this bastard his ‘owner’. He stayed stubbornly silent.  
  


The commie sighed again. “You just have to make this difficult, don’t you?” He muttered, then laughed. “That’s so like you.”  
  


Tom turned his head to look up at his captor, finding the man smirking down at him. He grimaced at the expression.  
  


Tord released his grip on Tom’s head, but leaned against his back to ensure he still didn’t stand. “Listen, Thomas. If you call me your owner, I’ll let you free for a while. How’s that sound?”   
  
The eyeless man saw right through him. He was always able to tell when the commie was lying, and this time was no different. He braced himself for more pain and turned his head back to face the desk.  
  


The devil in red hummed. “Suit yourself. I guess I’ll have to try something else, then.”  
  


Whatever Tom was expecting, it was not Tord turning him over, so his feet had to leave the ground for him to stay on the desk. Nor was it the commie  _ reaching into his fucking pants.  _ Instant panic hit him a just moment too late, and a tight hand wrapped around his length and  _ squeezed.  
  
_

And, fuck. It  _ hurt.  
  
_

“Now, then.” Tord smirked down at him, probably enjoying the pained expression on Tom’s face and the fact that the man in blue’s body had begun trembling. “This. This right here.” He squeezed a bit harder, and Tom bit his lip to keep from whimpering. “This belongs to me, and only to me. Because you’re mine.”   
  
“Fuck you.” Tom breathed, only to feel the hand tighten even more. Holy  _ shit...  _ he was sure that one of them had to reach their limit soon. Either Tord wouldn’t be able to squeeze anymore or Tom would give into the pain... it was only a matter of time.  
  


Tord laughed, the sound not helping Tom’s headache or the pain radiating through his body. “Let’s try again.” His other hand moved to grasp Tom’s throat, and it began squeezing as well, cutting off the other man’s breathing. “Who do you belong to?”  
  


Oh  _ fuck.  _ Now Tom couldn’t even breathe and the pain was just getting worse and his  _ head  _ oh god his  _ head-  
  
_

“Who do you belong to?”   
  
“...  _ you _ .”   
  
The hand around his throat stopped squeezing, but didn’t move. The hand around his length only barely stopped, enough for it to not be as painful as it had been. Tord’s smirk became evil, catlike, and his voice was akin to a purr when he spoke again. “What was that?”  
  


Tom couldn’t believe himself. But, if it saved him from whatever kind of torture this was, he’d give in. Just this once. He coughed, the action not helping his sore throat. “I belong to you.”  
  


The man in red stepped away from him, allowing him melt against the desk and catch his breath. He returned to press a hand to Tom’s cheek, making him meet his eyes. “Good boy. Was that so hard?” He questioned, still smirking like the cat that caught the canary. “I should reward you for that.”  
  


Reward? Tom was still reeling from the slams against the desk and the choking and the serious pain from between his legs that he couldn’t even find the energy in himself to fight when Tord rolled him back over. He did, however, get a shot of adrenaline when his pants were yanked down, almost painfully since they weren’t unbuttoned or anything. He heard a seam or two rip. Hey, they were pants that fit him quite nicely, not too tight, not too loose. He liked them.  
  


“Lesson two. You are my toy.” Tord’s irritatingly annoying voice purred into Tom’s ear, and the eyeless man couldn’t stop himself from shivering. A hand gently ran down his back and eventually grabbed his bare ass, making him yelp without meaning to. Tord chuckled quietly. “And I can do whatever I want with you, because you’re mine.” A small  _ pop  _ seemed to echo in the silent room, then.  
  


It was around this point that Tom was beginning to wonder just what was going on. He and Tord had a rivalry, right? Was this just to embarrass him or...?  
  


A wet finger dipping between his cheeks told him that this was much,  _ much  _ more than a simple embarrassment. Despite the fear and energy shooting through his veins, though, he couldn’t move an inch. His body was frozen, shock and confusion overriding the need to escape.  
  


_ Fuck...!  
  
_

_ \--  
  
_

Tord was having the time of his life. Nothing came remotely close to the power trip he was experiencing now. Having Tom pinned to the desk, pants down at his ankles and bent in just the perfect way was something the leader had only dreamed of prior to this moment. He didn’t want to ruin it, rather he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted and maybe jack off a bit too.  
  


He tried to keep his mind mostly clear, though. It became increasingly difficult to focus, due to all of his blood going south and reminding him of two very important things. One, he hadn’t gotten anyone in bed for quite a long time - too focused on work and all that. Two, he still had that teeny tiny crush on Tom that made living with him just that side of awkward. Too many nights were spent lying awake, waiting for everyone else to turn in for the night so he could quietly sneak into the bathroom and take a cold shower to clear his head of all of the dirty thoughts of the day.  
  


Still, he was a leader, and leaders were best suited for thinking when normal people would be lost to emotion. His smirk grew as he moved his finger away, knowing that that had to have confused the eyeless man pinned beneath him. In an odd way, it was almost disappointing how Tom was so rigid. He was expecting a struggle.  
  


“Thomas. Do you know what it means to belong to me?” He muttered, keeping his voice soft yet sharp. It was a tone that he himself enjoyed, and he knew it had to piss off his captive. Something about it must’ve irked him, because he twitched.  
  


Tom flexed his fingers, reminding Tord that his hands were tied. A new rush of arousal shot through the man in red, dimming his smirk into something more of a smile since he couldn’t keep his sarcastic smugness up anymore. The captive took a breath, and Tord listened for the answer to his question. “... Fuck you.”  
  


The leader shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Come on, Tom. You admitted that you belong to me, and you yet you won’t behave?” He sighed dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to train you from square one.”  
  


Taking advantage of his captive’s uneasiness and already confused state, he quickly forced his finger into him, eliciting something between a squeak and a yell. It made his smirk come back, and he ‘casually’ wiggled the finger around, working while  _ training  _ his new toy.  
  


Ooh, just  _ thinking  _ that sent pleasant shivers down his spine. He couldn’t wait to fuck the man in blue.  
  


He laughed, low and in his chest. “You are  _ mine. _ ” He leaned in close, though left enough room for his hand to slowly move out and thrust back in sharply. He knew that he was hurting the other man, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “I’m not going to take any more of that language from you.”  
  


Surprisingly - or unsurprisingly, given who it was - Tom did not give in easily. It took him a second, but he responded with, “And just what are you going to do, you shit fuck?”  
  


Tord closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could facepalm or smack the idiot. Well, he could, but he didn’t particularly want to. He pulled his finger out and laughed again, undoing the button of his pants with one (slippery) hand and allowing them to fall. He could see Tom’s thighs tense up and he knew his message had gotten through. Though, it would be smart to check. “I own you, Thomas. That means, if I really wanted to, I don’t have to prepare you. It might hurt me a little -” Tord knew for a fact that it stung, but it got better for the one on top after a little while - “But it’ll hurt you more. Do you want to take that risk, just to be stupid?”  
  


Tom took a few moments to respond once again, as if he was thinking about it. His voice shook when he spoke. “You motherfucker.”  
  


Tord rolled his eyes, smirk changing to a fond smile at his captive’s idiocy. He pressed the tip of his length into the man, a bolt of glee running through him at the first signs of struggle. Tom began twitching madly and curling upwards, though he didn’t move too far since Tord was practically leaning on his back.  
  


The leader only got a little farther in - the pain was making him go slowly, as much as he wanted to go quick and get the best reaction possible, it wasn’t happening yet - before Tom finally broke and begged for him to stop.   
  
_ Oh.  _ Now  _ that  _ felt good.  
  


Tord was done being nice, then. He pulled his length out, sure, and enjoyed the sight of Tom’s trembling form and how it felt underneath his arm. He squirted some lube into his palm and began lubricating himself - done with going slow, too. He was glad that he planned ahead and stashed lube in his desk, because otherwise, this would be torture for both parties.  
  


“Thomas.” He shifted his tone down a bit, making it darker and more threatening. He leaned in close, moving his arm and pressing the other man down with just his body. “You belong to  _ me. _ ” He lined himself up, excited at the thought of Tom’s reaction when he- “And I say when we  _ stop. _ ”  
  


Tom fucking  _ screamed.  
  
_

The sound mixed with Tord’s laugh, an evil sort of cackle that he’d only managed a couple of times in his life. Underneath all that, he was marveling at how  _ good  _ it felt to finally be buried in the man. After fantasizing of it for so long, it was  _ amazing.  _ Like a dream come true!  
  


“Tord, Tord,  _ Tord _ , fucking stop, ok? I- I belong to you- I-  _ please _ ...” Tom began babbling, voice shaking and breaking all over the place. It sounded like he was both crying and wheezing at the same time, and the sound was oddly satisfying.  
  


Tord hummed cheerfully, pretending to think about it. Of course he wasn’t going to give Tom what he wanted, but he wanted to torture him, too. He hadn’t forgotten that this was revenge, after all. “Alright. You’re being good again, so I’ll cut you some slack.” He pulled out, missing the heat around his dick instantly. He took a deep breath and reminded himself to be patient.  
  


Tom melted against the desk, legs very close to giving out. Tord held him up both by proximity and by an arm wrapped around his waist. In the silence of the office, the small sniffles coming from the captive were obvious.  
  


“Thomas...” The captor drew out the name, making sure to say it cheerfully.   
  
Another scream. This one bounced around in Tord’s ears for a while, and it was  _ wonderful.  _ He’d thrust back in, breaking the illusion of calm. It was a little easier this time around, due to Tom having been forcefully prepared the first time. Still, that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Probably. The leader had never had to deal with that kind of pain twice.  
  


Tord pulled out and thrust back in, the force of it making Tom’s body jerk. The leader stood up to watch the man move, take in all of the reactions. And man, the captive didn’t disappoint in this regard. He may not have struggled before, but now he was moving due to Tord slamming into him. His hands clenched and unclenched, his body was shaking like a puppy left out in the rain, and oh man, his  _ voice.  
  
_

He screamed, not even sounds of pleasure. They did still manage to turn Tord on, though, and he briefly wondered what the hell was wrong with him that  _ screams  _ turned him on. His voice was raw, filled with agony and pain, and it was everything that the leader had hoped it would be. Perfect revenge.  
  


However, he didn’t allow himself to finish inside of the man. He paused and pulled out, letting go of him completely and letting him fall to his knees in front of the desk. The sight of something red trailing out of his ass was like a confirmation that, yeah, Tord had gotten revenge on his enemy.  
  


And  _ fuck  _ if he didn’t want to do it again.  
  


He kneeled down, uncaring of how stupid he probably looked since his pants were down as well, and gave Tom a cruel smirk as the man shakily turned to face him. “Tell me again, Tom. Who do you belong to?”   
  
Tom visibly swallowed, wincing as he pulled his knees up to his torso in an effort to look small. “Y-you.”  
  


Tord couldn’t help but find the picture cute. The captive resembled a child who’d been scolded more than a man who’d just been fucked, with his shy expression and flushed face, teary eyes and overall look of shame. It sent a different type of shiver down his spine and reminded him - as if he  _ forgot  _ \- that he was still achingly hard. “And who makes the rules?”   
  
The man in blue curled up tighter, burying his face into his knees. “You do.” His voice was rough and broken, scratchy. The captor loved it.  
  


“Good boy.” Tord smiled, an actual  _ smile  _ and not a smirk. So, he  _ could  _ teach Tom to be his.  
  


Be  _ his.  
  
_

Holy shit he needed to come. He left Tom there, standing up and rifling through his desk. After finding what he was looking for - a knife - he wandered back to the man who was trying to be invisible, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and ignoring his whimper as he was forced to stand. He led - mostly dragged, actually - Tom over to a door connecting his office with another room, and opened it, shoving the man inside.  
  


The man in blue stumbled to the floor and curled up again, breath hitching. He looked like he was crying, which wasn’t surprising at all.  
  


Not finished with his new toy yet, though, Tord kneeled down again and began cutting the fabric to the man’s hoodie, eventually tearing it off of him without having to untie him. And Tom’s only reaction to this was to close his eyes and whimper pathetically.  
  


Tord left him in there, shutting the door with a loud slam. He made sure to lock all of the external locks (there were five besides the knob lock and deadbolt) and wandered over to his seat, collapsing into it. He raised the hoodie to his face and took a deep breath, savoring the smell of the man’s favorite alcohol and his sweat. It was weird, and almost creepy, but at the same time, he enjoyed it.  
  


He wrapped an arm of the hoodie around his length and began moving it, the odd texture adding to the fact that  _ this was Tom’s actual hoodie  _ and making him come within moments, soiling the blue fabric.  
  


Oh well, it’s not like Tom would ever need it again. Not if he had anything to say about it.  
  


\--  
  


His body ached. It still ached, even after the couple of days since he’d last seen Tord. He also hadn’t eaten, which was probably not helping his condition. It wasn’t a sting anymore, like it had been before. It was down to a low ache that became increasingly bad when he moved too fast.  
  


He’d paced for a while, but chose to sit in the back of the room when the ache got too bad or when he felt too light headed. His mind raced all the while, but he really didn’t know what he was thinking about. Maybe it was thoughts of how to escape, maybe thoughts of Edd and Matt, maybe it was thoughts of fear of the commie-  
  


He stopped that line of thought right there. He wasn’t afraid of the bastard... at least, he didn’t think he was. He wouldn’t know until he saw him again.  
  


A part of him wanted to curl up and die, become completely apathetic to the world and not care anymore. That same part of him felt broken, afraid of what would happen to him next. The other half of him was angry, pissed off, and distraught. It was the half that brought frustrated tears to his eyes if he even thought of what occurred between them. He wanted to scream it to the heavens, that  _ he was not a powerless bitch _ , but he couldn’t find the energy or the memory to back it up.  
  


He’d given in, and that led to him being taken against his will. But what other course of action was there?  _ Not  _ giving in, and being tortured until he died? He really didn’t doubt that Tord would kill him, after all.  But... but... there had to have been a way around it. And it was his own fault for not finding that way.  
  


An audible click cut into his thoughts, and the door swung open. Nothing was on the other side, however, except the oddly brighter light. Maybe it was darker in the room he was in, who knew? He was about to make a run for it (maybe it was rescue?) when he heard the devil incarnate. “Thomas. Come out here.”  
  


Anger and something worse than anxiety seared through his veins as he followed the order. The angry half of him wanted to just sit there and ignore the bastard, but even he knew that Tord wouldn’t stand for that. It was better to do something by his own will, rather than be forced.  
  


Tord was sitting at his desk, chewing on a pen. Tom saw that his own blue hoodie was thrown over the back of the man’s chair, and the sight disgusted him. He would’ve felt nauseous but he’d done enough throwing up already. He chanced a look at the door, and saw that the lock was turned. Fuck. He might’ve been able to sneak over and unlock it, if not for the sharp green eyes watching his every fucking move.  
  


The commie leaned back in his chair and motioned for Tom to come closer. He smirked at something when Tom followed the silent order, but whether it was because he did, in fact, obey or something else entirely, the man in blue didn’t know. A sense of dread loomed over the eyeless man, a feeling that increased when he saw the other man’s eyes subtly shift downwards.  
  


“What do you want?” Tom spat, wishing he didn’t feel like a bug under a microscope. He also wished he had some way to cover himself up - being half naked wasn’t helping his intimidation factor. If he didn’t already know that it didn’t matter anymore, he would’ve felt awkward about being half naked in front of his enemy. But, as he’d come to realize, there was nothing more to hide.  
  


Tord’s eyes drifted back to his face, and the smirk grew. He hated the bastard’s face, how he was always smug. Another wish was to punch the asshole, break his fucking nose. Tom hoped that he’d get the chance, if he was ever found and set free. The man in red leaned further back in his chair, still chewing on the pen. “I’m bored.”  
  


“And your point is?”   
  
“Entertain me.” The commie said it like it was obvious, and Tom was an idiot for not getting what he meant. Once again, his eyes fell downward, and the smirk became something softer. “After all, you’re my toy. I’d hope that you have an idea of how to make me happy.”  
  


Tom scoffed, subconsciously shifting his legs in an effort to cover himself somehow. It wouldn’t work, but he didn’t stop. “I have no idea what makes you happy. I don’t care, either. Make yourself happy, fff-” A surge of fear shot through him as his mouth tried to form the word ‘fuck’. Tord raised his gaze to Tom’s face and the smirk returned. “Commie.” He finished, looking away from the man.  
  


“I’m glad to see that at least one lesson stuck.” The captor laughed, taking the pen out of his mouth and setting it on the desk. “But fine. I’ll entertain myself.” He paused for just a second, pushing out from the desk. He didn’t stand, however. “Come here.”  
  


A shiver went down Tom’s spine, and he found himself shaking his head. He didn’t want to get close to the man. Not at all. It was at this point that he found the answer to one of his questions.  
  


_He_ _was afraid of Tord.  
  
_

The commie was having none of it, though. “Come  _ here,  _ Thomas. Or else I might get angry with you.” His smirk fell into a blank face, and that was enough to push Tom into following his order, albeit very slowly and anxiously.  
  


Tom stepped closer to the desk, eyes locked on the chair instead of Tord. He only barely caught the motion telling him to go around the desk, mostly because he saw out of the corner of his eye that  _ Tord had no pants on.  _ After stepping around the desk, he found himself being pulled to sit uncomfortably on the man’s lap, facing him. Due to the chair’s design, getting out of this position was going to take some effort. The feeling of their skin rubbing together made him feel sick.  
  


Tord smiled up at him, seemingly happy with this arrangement. “Let’s learn another lesson.” His hands wrapped around Tom’s waist, and Tom had to stop himself from beginning to squirm. “If I ever ask you to entertain me, your immediate response should not be, ‘I don’t care’ or ‘entertain yourself’.”  
  


The grip around him tightened, and Tom closed his eyes for a moment to try and mentally prepare. It didn’t work.  
  


“As my toy, it is your job to keep me entertained. If I say to entertain me, you will do just that.” A small  _ pop  _ reached Tom’s ears, and he tensed up in anticipation. “Do you understand?”  
  


He decided to say ‘fuck it’, and sounded a lot more confident than he truly felt. “So what, you want me to jump around in circles or something?” In a matter of moments, a wet finger entered him, and he felt absolutely violated again. It wasn’t as painful as the first time, though.  
  


Tord laughed, the sound making Tom’s skin crawl. “While that would be hilarious in it’s own right, that’s not what I had in mind.”  
  


The finger slowly thrusted in and out of him, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stay upright. He fell into the commie’s shoulder, glad that he didn’t have to face the man but pissed because it was  _ his shoulder.  _ After a few moments, a second finger decided to join in, and while the pain increased, it was also kind of... good? In a way?  
  


It wasn’t the painful ‘one-two’ that Tord had done before, and the eyeless man was happy about that. Sort of. He still felt disgusting and used, but overall it was good to see that he wasn’t going to be treated that roughly all the time-  
  


A sudden rush of  _ good  _ ran through his body, and not even biting his lip stopped the moan. He wanted to curl up and die. This felt  _ way  _ too good, something was wrong.  
  


Tord’s chuckle pissed him off, and he managed to pull himself up into a straight position again, just to glare at the man. “Well. You’ve never done this before, have you?” The commie asked, still smug about everything. There was a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, and it didn’t take Tom more than a few moments to realize that something hard was pressing against his thigh. Disgusting. “You don’t know what that was, do you?”  
  


Tom stayed silent, stubbornly. He hoped that it didn’t trigger something violent, and then wondered why he was hoping that automatically. He was getting extremely pissed off at this point, and his legs shifted. He wanted to stand and run over to the door and maybe if he rammed up against it enough, someone would open it or the lock would give out or somethi-  
  


A hand wrapped around his length, and his train of thought derailed horrifically. Several hundred casualties. “I asked you a question, Thomas. I would very much like for you to answer it.” The man in red’s hand didn’t tighten, though it did slowly begin to shift up and down.  
  


The slow tingles of arousal sent tremors throughout the eyeless man’s body, and he found himself feeling even more gross than before because he was getting turned on and he couldn’t fucking  _ stop.  _ Licking his lips, he closed his eyes. “I don’t know what that was.”   
  
“Good boy.” Tord muttered, hand speeding up just a bit. His fingers brushed by that certain spot again, and Tom was once again forced to moan loudly. A third finger was added, but Tom didn’t really notice, too focused on willing himself to  _ not  _ be turned on. “I was right about one thing.”  
  


Tom cracked open an eye, realizing that the commie’s hand on his length had stopped and the friction was coming from his lower body rocking forward. He hadn’t known he was doing that, and a heavy wave of shame washed over him as he tried to stop. It wasn’t easy, since it felt so good and everytime his body moved back, the fingers in his ass jabbed that spot that felt amazing.  
  


Tord smiled at him, the bright expression sending a chill down his spine. Or maybe it was something else, he wasn’t sure. “I think I like it better when you’re not cursing my existence. Good to know.”   
  
“I’m still cursing your existence, you ass-” An almost painful jab into that good spot had him jolting, and he groaned pitifully in response. Arousal was beginning to cloud his mind, and he wanted to die. He wasn’t supposed to get turned on. He was a  _ guy  _ who was  _ very straight.  _ Did it really only take a couple of fingers in his ass and a hand around his dick to win him over? Fuck.  
  


Tord shifted slightly, and his fingers were removed. He pushed at Tom, making the eyeless man stumble and stand, falling back into the desk. He felt like the desk burned him, and he recoiled, standing awkwardly in between the commie and the desk with the weirdest boner in his life. Tord stood and turned him around, pulling his waist backward while pushing his torso forward, unfortunately making him mirror the position from the other day.  
  


And now, Tom was  _ terrified.  _ His mind had oddly gotten away from him, and he was wondering strange things like “did I piss him off?” and “did I go too far?” and even “is he going to hurt me again?”. He felt like he was shaking horribly, but he couldn’t stop it. Tears pricked at his eyes and he cursed how easily and quickly he was already thinking like a fucking  _ pet.  
  
_

After a few moments, something bigger than the fingers began pressing into him, and the shirt that he’d been wearing was cut and slipped off. Now he was fully naked, but once again, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was more concerned with how  _ slowly  _ and  _ gently  _ Tord was moving. The commie paused about a quarter of the way in, his body falling down on top of Tom’s. “Does it hurt?” His voice was soft, quiet.  
  


Tom shook his head, feeling extremely awkward. The feeling increased when the man in red began pressing light kisses to the back of his neck. He swallowed, pressing his forehead to the desk. “W-what are you doing?”   
  
Tord began pressing in again, still just as gentle as before, and he laughed quietly. “I’m enjoying myself. Besides, you’ve been relatively good today. I don’t feel like I should punish you for anything.”  
  


Relatively good? He’d slipped up and almost swore. Not that he was trying  _ not  _ to swear, but the memory of what happened last time he swore in front of the commie was not a good one and he’d rather not have  _ that  _ happen again.  
  


Tord bottomed out and stood there for a few seconds, still kissing Tom. “Besides, I have you forever.” He muttered. “You’re mine, and I want to enjoy that privilege in every possible way.” He began pulling out with a little more speed.  
  


Tom’s eyes snapped shut at the words, a feeling of nausea overtaking his arousal for a moment. He really  _ was  _ Tord’s, wasn’t he? A fucking toy that the commie could do anything to, since he obviously didn’t care about the law or what Tom had to say about it. His stomach did a flip and it was amazing that he didn’t throw up right there.  
  


Well, the thoughts soon left his mind, because with another thrust in, again with a little more speed, the man in red managed to hit all the right places inside of Tom, and the eyeless man let out a startled gasp.  
  


Holy fucking  _ shit.  _ That felt actually kind of good. It wasn’t as painful as Tom was expecting, and he once again wondered what the fuck was going on. Why was Tord being so gentle? Was that just how this was going to be? One day, he’s all rough and shit, and the next, he’s the complete opposite?  
  


Another thrust, and Tom groaned. “How do you feel, Tom? Can I go faster?” Tord’s voice drifted into what was becoming a haze of confusion and arousal, and it grounded him.  
  


His response to that changed several times, since Tord didn’t really wait for one and started up a moderate pace. Each thrust made his brain short-circuit, and he decided to just spit out whatever answer came first. “I don’t know.”   
  
Well, he wasn’t lying. Through the arousal that was slowly building in his body, he was already feeling the cry of “why am I getting turned on from this? I’m straight!” and a small stab of fear with each passing second that this whole scenario wasn’t what it seemed. Tord had to be playing nice, just to hurt him la...?  
  


His train of thought once again derailed, the feeling of a hand on his dick a bit more startling than it should’ve been. Oh god, why was everything so  _ good?  _ His fear had shifted from “is he going to hurt me again” to something else. Something like, “oh god is he being gentle because I’m actually responding or-”  
  


A quiet laugh broke into his thoughts, and before anything more came of it, the hand began moving. Tom shivered and bit his lip, trying to stop himself from moaning like a bitch. “You know, I think that this is pretty cute.” The captor muttered into his ear. “How you sound while moaning, trying to be quiet and trying to be all strong. Adorable.”  
  


Tom wanted to kick him for calling him ‘cute’, among other things, but he couldn’t move his body. The most he could do was focus on not vocalizing what was apparently  _ pleasure.  _ The flames of arousal were slowly creeping up on him, though, and he knew it was only a matter of time. He didn’t even realize that he’d begun to meet Tord’s thrusts, wanting to feel more.  
  


“But.” Tord stood up, hand splayed on Tom’s back like he was expecting him to try and stand. As if he could. “I  _ do _ want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.” He shifted the angle of his thrusts and randomly slammed into Tom.  
  


And the eyeless man saw stars. His lip fell from his teeth, and a long, low moan escaped his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn’t stop them from falling onto the desk. He had no control over his body anymore.  
  


Another harsh thrust into that one spot, and Tom gasped and groaned. He wasn’t going to last long at this rate, and just that thought scared him. He was  _ straight  _ and yet here he was about to fucking  _ come  _ because some guy - his  _ enemy - _ was fucking him in the ass. Not only that, but that meant on some level that he liked this, right? Sure, it felt good, but he felt used and disgusted with himself for the lack of control.  
  


He’d  _ never  _ like this.  
  


Tord went back to kissing him all over, hand picking up speed while his thrusts went back to being mostly gentle. Every once and a while there was a random pound that made Tom’s body jolt forward into the desk, and they were always into that one fucking  _ amazing  _ spot. The captive was beginning to feel lightheaded, unable to keep himself quiet for long enough to breathe. His noises were loud, lewd, and he was ashamed of himself for making them.  
  


“Tom.” A quiet purr underneath the sounds. “Who is it that you belong to?”   
  
A gasp - Tord hit that one spot again, and then stopped moving. Tom took the moment to catch his breath before responding weakly, “You.”   
  
“Good boy.”   
  
The hand sped up, and the thrusts became rougher and less coordinated, but somehow always hitting the right fucking  _ spot _ . Tom felt like he was going insane, and as he felt what seemed like a bite on his shoulder, tremors rocked through him. The hand continued to move, and Tord didn’t stop, even as he came, and a quiet whine escaped his throat without him meaning to.  
  


It was starting to be a little uncomfortable, now. The pulses and tingles of arousal were building up, but they had no place to go. In fact, Tom would argue that it was actually beginning to hurt, and he began to twitch and squirm under the norwegian, trying to stop him. When that didn’t work, he chose to try and use his words. “T-Tord! Stop!”   
  
The commie clicked his tongue, hitting the good spot again. Oh  _ fuck.  _ “Are you trying to order me, Tom? I thought  _ I  _ owned  _ you. _ ” Another bite to his shoulder, this one breaking the skin. “And, remember, I say when we stop. Not you. Although, if you keep begging like that, I may change my mind.”  
  


Tom was at a crossroads, then. He could either give up his pride in exchange for being let go, or he could let Tord do what he wanted. Neither seemed like a good option. The eyeless man squirmed for a little while longer, tears coming faster and faster and  _ oh god oh god this is too much make it stop _ but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to give the commie that satisfaction.  
  


But, unfortunately, things had to hit a tipping point. Everything suddenly shorted out, and he couldn’t take a second more of it. He wasn’t sure what would happen, but he needed to stop it.  _ Now.  _ “Tord, Tord please... I can’t... I-it hurts...”   
  
The thrusts became slightly gentler, and Tord once again leaned down to lay on his back. He chuckled. “Don’t use my name, Tom.” The hand around Tom’s length tightened, and the eyeless man whined again. “I am your owner. Call me something more appropriate, and I’ll stop.”  
  


Tom swallowed, mind snapping a little bit more. He was gone. “... s- _ sir _ , please...”  
  


Tord stopped, stepping away from Tom. The eyeless man heard the chair’s wheels behind him, meaning that Tord had sat down again. However, he quickly fell to his knees, curling up in a little ball. He was still in pain, the tingles from where the commie had been rubbing against him making him feel... violated. He felt dirty, and he wanted to die. Tears still made their way down his cheeks.  
  


A hand landed on his head, ruffling his hair. When he looked up, he was met with Tord’s smirking face, and he wished that he never had to deal with it ever again. “Good boy.” The norwegian repeated, grabbing a paper off the desk along with the pen. “You may return to your room now. I have no further use for you at the moment.”  
  


Tom could barely get his limbs to function, but he managed to scramble around the desk without any sort of problem. He then landed face first on the carpet, and he cursed his arms for being tied behind his back. A thought popped into his head, and despite the fact that he’d really rather get to the room as soon as possible, to get away from this bastard, he needed to know. “Am... Am I going to get food, com-... sir?”  
  


Oh  _ shit.  _ Why was that his default  _ already _ ?! He’d wanted to say ‘commie’! Still, he turned to look at Tord.  
  


The commie smirked down at him, expression absolutely evil. “I was wondering when you’d ask that.” He said, tone dark. He waved his hand, lowering his gaze to his paper again. “I’ll bring you something a little later, as a reward for being such a good boy today.”  
  


Tom took that and continued his scramble to his room. No more than two seconds after he entered it did the door slam shut, the locks on the other side clicking. He curled up off towards the left of the room, shaking and crying.  
  


Hopefully rescue came before he became what Tord wanted him to be...  
  


They’d better get here soon.  
  


\--  
  


Tord stepped into the room, flicking a switch on the wall and turning on the light. The light in this room always irritated him, since it was so white and yet so dim. In his one hand was a plate with a couple slices of bread on it and some assorted fruit. He didn’t want Tom to starve, after all, nor did he want him to get too sick of the same old stuff.  
  


He set the plate down by the door, closing it behind him as he stepped into the room. Tom was asleep over in the corner, curled up in a cute little ball. Tord truly was undecided on what to do, but he knew deep down that he had to be a cruel trainer in order to get his toy to do what he wanted. A thought sparked in his head - what if he fucked Tom while he was sleeping? - but he decided to do that at a later date.  
  


He had plenty of time, after all.  
  


He rolled Tom over forcefully and smacked his face, waking him up with pain. The eyeless man shot up and glared at the leader for a few moments before the color drained from his face. “W-what do you want?”   
  
“I brought you food.” Tord explained simply, keeping his expression blank. He didn’t want to smirk right now.  
  


Tom looked over to the plate and his stomach growled. With a short glance to Tord, he began inching his way towards the door.  
  


However, the leader had other plans. He yanked on Tom’s cuffs, pulling him back to his starting point with barely any effort. The man must’ve been really hungry. Tom went back to glaring at him, and this time he did not back down.  
  


Stupid.  
  


Tord smacked his face again, enjoying how loud it was and how red Tom’s cheek was getting. “Do not glare at me, Thomas.” He ordered. “I am not in the mood to humor your bullshit.” Actually, he was, but he wanted to hammer out the bullshit as quick as possible. The more time he had to enjoy his toy before he got bored of him, the better.  
  


Tom, once again, glared at him. It seemed this message wasn’t going to be as easy to learn.  
  


Tord sighed. It was two in the morning and he was tired, so he wanted to get this done as soon as possible. With how uncooperative the captive was being, it seemed he’d be leaving pretty early. He stood, walking back to the door and picking up the plate. “I guess you don’t want this.” The door opened, leading him into his darkened office.  
  


“W-wait, T-T-T- _ sir,  _ please!”   
  
Ah.  _ Now,  _ Tord smirked. He turned to look at Tom, who looked ashamed of himself. His stomach growled again. “Oh, so you do want this?” Tord bounced the plate in his hand. “I dunno. That was pretty bad of you, glaring at me.”   
  
Tom screwed his eyes shut. “I’m s-sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”  
  


Oh, how quickly Tom learned! It was astounding! Tord got the feeling that he wasn’t truly learning yet, but he’d cut him  _ some _ slack. There would be time to crack down on acting down the line. He kicked the door closed, leaving the room and ignoring the calls from his captive.  
  


_ Damn right it better not happen again.  
  
_

Tord returned the next morning with some fresh food. He’d eaten the fruit from yesterday, anyway, and he had a little more patience now that he’d slept. The door creaked open, and the light flickered on.  
  


Tom was still in the same spot that he’d been last night, once again curled into a little ball. He looked up when Tord opened the door, though, and his face lit up with hope.  
  


“I do not intend to starve you, but I don’t feel like you’re truly learning what I’ve been teaching.” Tord crossed his arms, leaning on the doorway and balancing the food like a pro. “It’s saddening, really. I don’t think you really are sorry about glaring at me.” He picked up one of the pieces of fruit and ate it.  
  


Tom whined, shifting in his sitting position. “I... sir... please... I’m... I’m really hungry.”   
  
“I don’t care.” Tord shot back. “You’ve been a bad boy.” He ate another piece of fruit. He’d planned this, and placed extra food on the plate just so he  _ didn’t  _ starve his captive. “I wonder how you could possibly make it up to me?” He picked up another piece of fruit, looking at it. He grabbed the door with his foot and stepped into the room, hearing it slam behind him. He smirked and changed his object of focus. “Oh, I know.”   
  
Tom watched him eat another piece with wide eyes and a pale face.  
  


“ _ Entertain me.”  
  
_

\--  
  


Tom was hungry. He was  _ so  _ hungry. It had been five days since he’d eaten last, and he felt weaker than hell. And here the devil was, torturing him with food right in front of his face, telling him that he wasn’t going to starve, but he seriously felt like he was already. His mind was cloudy, and he was willing to do almost anything to get the food.  
  


_ Almost  _ anything.  
  


When those two words came out of Tord’s mouth, Tom didn’t know what to do. He knew, from two days ago, that he was supposed to do  _ something,  _ but given his lack of arms it was hard to decipher what that something was, exactly. He crawled closer to Tord using his knees, hoping that the man would give him some sort of hint, but instead he just smirked down at him.  
  


He cleared his throat, half hating himself for submitting and half knowing that there was no other way to get the food. “What shall I do, sir?”   
  
Tord rolled his eyes. “Really? You have to ask? I’m standing here in the loosest pants ever and you ask what you should do?”   
  
What did his pants have to do with anything? “Well, I don’t have hands, so I’m kind of at a loss. It’s not like I can do that butt stuff you did to me.” Just the thought of doing that to  _ himself  _ made his stomach twist unbearably. He swallowed.  
  


Tord went to smack him, and he flinched. The commie paused though, frowning. “I guess you have a point.” His hand went to his waistband instead, and his pants dropped to the floor. “Suck me off.”   
  
Tom stared at the man’s length, then looked up at his blank face, and the whole scene probably would’ve looked hilarious to an outsider. However, even with the lack of food in his stomach, he felt exceptionally sick for even the idea of having someone else’s  _ dick  _ in his  _ mouth.  _ He swallowed and looked up at his captor, fear shooting through him. “I-... I can’t.”   
  
“You  _ can’t? _ ” The norwegian asked skeptically.  
  


Tom nodded, lowering his head. He knew he was going to get hit, but... but he really just  _ couldn’t  _ force himself to. It was far too disgusting. “I... it makes... I feel sick. I can’t even think about it...” He winced.  
  


Above him, his captor was silent for a long moment. He kneeled down and pulled up his pants, then, setting the food down in front of Tom. He stayed kneeling. “Alright. I’m not going to force you to do that.” His eyes narrowed. “Yet.” He then smirked. “But I’m glad that you were honest with me about that.” The plate of food was pushed closer to him. “Now, eat.”  
  


Tom looked at the food, then at his captor. Tears rose in his eyes and he blinked them away. Something about this made him feel a little worse about his entire situation, like Tord was going to do something terrible to him. He leaned down slowly, biting into a small piece of fruit and pulling it into his mouth.  
  


Holy  _ shit  _ after so long, just that small bit of apple was like a godsend. He continued to eat, feeling Tord’s eyes on him the entire time.  
  


Once he was finished, not even two seconds later, the plate was pushed off to the side and the norwegian had forced him onto his back. Tom was scared at this new movement, and it was at that moment that he realized that he hadn’t been acting very much like himself. He didn’t feel like he could.  
  


Instead of whatever the eyeless man was expecting, Tord moved down, down, and sat on his legs. “If you won’t, I will.” He leaned forward, and something  _ wet  _ and  _ warm  _ wrapped around Tom’s length.  
  


And, oh  _ fuck,  _ it felt good.  
  


Tom writhed, feeling Tord bob his head and swirl his tongue and gently graze his skin with his teeth, and the sparks of arousal that were becoming increasingly familiar shot through him.  
  


It didn’t take long for him to reach his peak, but he’d blame that on Tord being fucking good at sucking dick rather than him having no stamina or liking his dick to be sucked. The norwegian sat up, mouth closed with a little bit of white running down his chin, and he quickly shuffled upwards, pressing his mouth to Tom’s.  
  


The come went into the eyeless man’s mouth, and he made a face at the disgusting taste. His jaw snapped shut, though, held there by Tord’s hand while the other one wiped his face. He smirked. “I’d swallow if I were you.”   
  
Tom screwed his eyes shut and followed the order, swallowing thickly. Oh god, it was  _ gross  _ and he really felt like he had to vomit. But, if he did that, he’d lose the food from before. He kept swallowing over and over and he wished he had some fruit left to wash the taste away with.  
  


Tord stood up, walking over to the door and leaving without a word. Tom was almost happy that he did, and he shot over to the bathroom connected to his room, leaning over the toilet while he debated whether or not to allow himself to throw up.  
  


\--  
  


Over the next few weeks - at least, Tom was pretty sure it was a few weeks, since Tord changed clothes each time he saw him and he’d counted the number of times that was - things didn’t really change. The norwegian was always gentle if they had sex, but nothing else really happened. Tom had learned not to speak out of turn, finally. It always ended with a slap to the face or something similar, but even then, nothing as bad as the first day occurred.  
  


Until, this day. Tom had just been minding his business, playing with the plate in his room. His thoughts were starting to become white noise, and most of his time awake was spent staring off in a certain direction with nothing going through his head at all. He’d kept himself occupied for a while, but you could only keep yourself entertained - ugh,  _ that  _ word - for so long before you ran out of material.  
  


The door slammed open, and that in itself was bad enough. It was telling of things to come. Standing on the other side of the door was the devil himself, and his posture just  _ screamed  _ fury. As did his strides into the room, closer and closer to the captive.  
  


Tom shuffled back, hitting the wall. He was terrified of Tord, more so than usual, and he worried that he might’ve done something wrong. There was only a small piece of his mind that tried to assure him that he’d done everything right, but the rest of him wasn’t buying it.  
  


The plate was picked up and thrown to the other side of the room, shattering upon impact with the wall. The norwegian reached his captive and grabbed a fistful of his hair, wasting no time in slamming his head against the wall.  
  


Funnily enough, Tom - in a dazed state of mind due to the sudden attack - thought of a cartoon where one character was doing absolutely nothing wrong and the other character came up and screamed and attacked him for no reason, believing him to be a spider. That seemed relevant, but he chose not to bring it up as his head was smashed into the wall again.  
  


Tord let go of his hair, choosing instead to kick him wherever he could. His boots were heavy and they  _ hurt  _ like a bitch. Tom curled up, trying to protect himself from the kicks, only to get a rough yank on one of his arms as Tord threw him away from the wall, taking the moment of confusion to kick him square in the stomach.  
  


Now, with the wind knocked out of him, the eyeless man coughed and sputtered. He gave up trying to get away, trying to block anything, and just chose to let Tord do as he pleased.  
  


Several kicks - probably resulting in bruises - and a strangulation attempt later, Tord stood over the dazed captive. His expression hadn’t changed the entire time, nor had he spoken, and Tom decided that he feared this Tord a lot more. Especially as he unzipped his jeans, pulling them down while pulling out a little blue bottle of lube.  
  


He only lubricated himself.  
  


Tom’s eyes, which had been almost closed in pain, snapped open, and he screamed at the feeling of Tord thrusting in without preparing him. Oh  _ fuck  _ it hurt so bad. Knives ran up and down his spine, and sharp stings radiated throughout his entire body. The memory of the first night came flooding back, and a sob tore from his throat as Tord picked up a brutal pace.  
  


What had he done  _ wrong?  
  
_

The norwegian only grunted and groaned quietly, leaving all of the sound up to Tom. All that the captive managed to make sound-wise were sobs and whimpers. He couldn’t find it in himself to scream anymore. He was in too much pain, and the sight of Tord’s face above him, still that eerie flat expression, filled him with more fear than he knew how to handle.  
  


A long few moments went by, filled with nothing but harsh breathing and the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the norwegian stilled, eyes closing as his body trembled. He’d actually come inside Tom this time, for the first time ever. He pulled himself out, his dick colored pink, oddly, and Tom couldn’t find the energy in himself to force himself to relax.  
  


The captor wrapped a hand around his throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “Who am I?” His voice was low, threatening, and his other hand’s nails dug into the skin of Tom’s thigh, forming crimson crescents alongside the new bruises.  
  


Tom blinked, and that moment was the pinnacle moment. He shattered. “My owner.”  
  


_ He _ slammed him into the ground, the grip on his throat so tight that he fought to breathe even after it loosened again. “Who am I?”  
  


What was  _ he _ asking? The pieces fell, now, and Tom’s mind was quickly becoming lost to a sea of loud static. He needed to answer the question, though. “My owner, Red Leader.”  
  


_ He  _ finally smirked at him, but slammed him again. “Who are you?”   
  
Tom coughed, mind fuzzy. Where was he, again? Who was this man above him? Wait, never mind, he knew who he was. Oh  _ god,  _ the pain wouldn’t stop. “The Red Leader’s toy.”   
  
“Who makes the rules?” Slam.  
  


“Y-you do, sir.”   
  
“What is your purpose in life?” Slam, slam.  
  


Tom saw stars, and he didn’t think anymore. “To entertain you, sir.” His voice was rough, almost lost to his own ears.  
  


“Damn right.” Another slam, and  _ he  _ stood.  _ He _ kicked him once more in the side before spitting on him and leaving the room, slamming the door shut behind  _ him _ .  
  


Not that Tom would even think about following  _ him _ . He couldn’t think at all. His mind was gone. Who was he? Why was he here? What was life like before all of this? He didn’t know, couldn’t reach the memories. He knew they were there - he didn’t have amnesia, but his mind didn’t want to supply him with those thoughts.  
  


In the quiet of the room, silent tears ran down Tom’s face. He was  _ broken. _

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry.


End file.
